SOUNDCHECK: All Time Low @ San Jose Civic
Frontman Alex Gaskarth takes the stage at Warped Tour. Photo provided by Justin Burgan
All Time Low—the Maryland-based emo-pop band famous for “Dear Maria, Count Me In”—continued the first leg of their “Everyone’s Talking!” North American tour at the San Jose Civic on Oct. 21, 2025, following the release of their tenth studio album of the same name.
Doors opened at 7 p.m. for this general-admission show, with All Time Low hitting the stage at 8:45 p.m.—just two days after the “When We Were Young” tour wrapped in Las Vegas, keeping the pop-punk momentum alive.
Mayday Parade, a Tallahassee-based rock group formed in 2005, opened their set with songs centered on love.
Frontman Derek Sanders marked Mayday Parade’s twentieth anniversary and his own recent marriage, reminding the crowd, “We’re all constantly bombarded with reminders of how messed up the world is right now, but we love all of you—regardless of your race, religion, gender or sexual orientation.”
He then transitioned into an emotional, nostalgia-baited performance of his 2018 release “Piece of Your Heart,” and the crowd was clearly hungry for the love it depicted.
Mayday Parade embodies the kind of melancholic melody that defined early-to-mid-2000s emo—with anthemic choruses, heartfelt lyrics, and the kind of grit that had everyone convinced it was not a phase.
And in their defense, it wasn’t.
“We’re playing some emo music in San Jose!” screamed Sanders toward the tail end of his opening act. His set included some of his most famous anthems, like “Pretty Good to Feel Something” and “Black Cat,” which had the crowd primed and ready to spend the next two hours sweating off decade-old layers of eyeliner.
This concert invited the millennial crowd to relive their college years, and there was something refreshing about watching it from my own. The energy was palpable, the music was sing-along fun, and most of all—that fun was for everyone, old or young.
Sanders closed his set with a passionate performance of “Jamie All Over,” a heartfelt ode to the highs and lows of California dreaming. Singing, “If I roll over, when it’s over / I’ll take this Cali sunrise with me,” he created a moment that made the crowd feel grounded in the privilege of simply being present.
Out-of-body and ephemeral—the kind of magic that reminds you why you came.
That feeling lingered, but the night was just getting started. All Time Low kicked things off with a cold open: “Everyone’s Talking!” on acoustic guitar—yes, the tour’s title track—instantly rousing the crowd. That’s the idea of a cold open: dive straight into the music with no preamble—and it worked perfectly.
The show was a technicolor blend of ’80s nostalgia, Vegas-style lights, and almost elementary-school imagery. Likewise, the band—frontman and guitarist Alex Gaskarth, lead guitarist Jack Barakat, bassist/backing vocalist Zack Merrick and drummer Rian Dawson—wore matching colorful outfits, turning themselves into a spectacle all their own.
Gaskarth took to the mic to talk about sadness in accordance with Mayday Parade’s earlier announcement about the state of the world.
“You’re allowed to feel sad,” he said. “But you aren’t allowed to stay there.”
Followed by “Oh No!,” with lyrics like “But if I’m not broken like I used to be / Will you still find me interesting?” All Time Low spotlighted the melodrama and the fetishization of trauma that defined early-2000s emo—now circulating again in today’s media landscape.
Music resonates by reflecting the struggles of personhood, and live shows create a space for shared catharsis. ATL’s strength lies in their instinctual way of feeding off that energy, and nailing it every time.
Songs like “Weightless” and “PMA” carried that same energy, turning the stage into a place where uncertainty becomes communal, asking: “Maybe I’m broken but I’m not sure / Am I depressed or am I just bored?”
Well, wouldn’t we all like to know?
From that shared introspection, the night pivoted—leaning fully into its roots and embracing what can only be described as millennial cringe.
A performance of “SUCKERPUNCH,” one of the band’s 2025 releases, posed the pre-chorus question I wrote about last week: “Can I get a witness?” and answered it with, “I’m just some motherfucker you’re dying to suckerpunch”—arguably not the most thought-provoking lyric I’ve heard in a long time.
Gaskarth and his bandmates then descended into a five-minute cringe fest that defies description unless you were there in person. Jokes about marijuana, cheese, Jared Leto and “Guitar Hero” filled the space, creating an oddly endearing moment that the room ate up.
“There’s synergy in this room today,” shouted Gaskarth, and he wasn’t wrong.
Fans hopped onto one another’s shoulders, the band performed “Happy Birthday” to one Alejandro in the crowd—happy birthday if you’re reading this—and engaged the audience through clapping, pointing the mic and cheering. Every effort was effective.
During their performance of “Missing You,” the band asked the crowd to raise their phones, flashlights glowing as the audience swayed to the gentle harmonies of a song about connection.
And that’s the essence of the night: millennial humor and universal cringe uniting strangers, generating an energy of togetherness and unfiltered fun. The music mattered, but the true magic was in the synergy Gaskarth celebrated—the shared, electric experience that made the room feel alive.
The Logistics
Ticket prices for this show hovered around $64—steep, but the venue is spacious.
That said, it gets hot inside. Ventilation on the main floor is poor, and the crowd’s body heat can be overwhelming; a concertgoer fainted behind me and had to be carried out until paramedics could reach her. The upstairs is much cooler, but it requires climbing two flights of steep stairs, so keep accessibility in mind. There are plenty of places to sit if needed.
Merchandise ranged from $5 to $75, though I didn’t purchase anything. Keep in mind: the tables close before the show wraps, so grab what you want early.
The drive from Santa Clara University to August Hall takes about fifteen minutes, but parking is limited and pricey. The nearest garage is $31, while a cheaper option is $18—but nearly a twenty-minute walk away.
I opted for an Uber, which cost around $14 at 7:45 p.m. and nearly $17 when leaving at 10 p.m.